


modicum

by bwoozi



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, Best Friends, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwoozi/pseuds/bwoozi
Summary: Happiness seems to require a modicum of external prosperity.(seventeen drabbles or short oneshots; multiple ships.)





	1. soonhoon/college au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [How am I supposed to pretend I never want to see you again?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4XyjlGtxzU)

His name is Ji-something, but Soonyoung knows at least a little about him despite his own trouble with names—Ji-something makes music and has a thing for dancers. He’s cold at first and a lot sexier than expected, height and face considered; presently, Soonyoung’s hands are creeping up the unexpectedly sexy Ji-something’s shirt, only realizing his fingertips are cold when the smaller’s shoulders tense up and he sucks in air through his teeth. It’s surprisingly cute, Soonyoung thinks, then tries to figure out why he’s so endeared by someone he doesn’t even know the name of.

Soonyoung wants to say that the music at the party was too loud and he couldn’t hear his name, but that would be bullshit. He stumbled upon Ji-something curled up on the kitchen counter alone, picking at a Styrofoam container of thai food, muted bass thrumming in the background—he thought he looked interesting. His hair is so blond that it’s practically white and his skin is so pale and soft that it reminds Soonyoung of a fairy or something equally as ridiculous. It was irresistible, paired with the scent of sesame oil and lime.

He doesn’t seem like a party person or a hooking up kind of person, but he’s here now, backed against the wall with his hips pushing up into Soonyoung’s. It was his fault that he agreed to come over and both of their faults for being slightly inebriated.

Soonyoung could talk a lot about how good looking he is and how fun he was to talk to for the short amount of time that he did, but at the moment he’s really just focused on getting his clothes off, for all intents and purposes. Maybe he’ll ask Ji-something for breakfast if he stays the night. Maybe Ji-something will ask him…

They pull away from each other and stumble into Soonyoung’s room, Ji-something immediately ripping his shirt off and reclining on the bed. The light flicks on—it’s a reflex. Soonyoung’s having some trouble getting his own shirt off—it’s a turtleneck and his face won’t quite come out of it.

“Lights on or off?” He says through fabric, and Ji-something clicks his tongue.

“The ceiling light’s kind of intense—maybe just this lamp?” He suggests, crawling towards his bedside table. Soonyoung agrees, but meets his eyes in the bright light for a moment before the room is dim.

“You look familiar.” He blurts, allowing Ji-something to situate him against the headboard and lay between his legs, pulling his pants off and immediately palming at his crotch. Jesus.

“Maybe you’ve seen me on campus?” It’s a pretty big campus—Soonyoung doesn’t deny that it’s possible, but he still feels strange.

Ji-something goes to town on Soonyoung—it’s not anything he hasn’t felt before, but he’s pretty good with his mouth, making Soonyoung pant harshly.

“Do you have anywhere to be in the morning?”

Ji-something pulls off with a subtle sucking sound, licking the corner of his mouth. His eyes are dark with lust and send a spark down Soonyoung’s spine. “I have a class at 9, why?”

Oh, no. “What class?”

“Literature?” Then he looks up at Soonyoung—they stare straight into each other’s eyes for a bit, Ji-something’s hand still firm around Soonyoung, and it clicks. “Oh.”

That’s Jihoon, from Soonyoung’s literature class.

There’s a beat of silence and suddenly Soonyoung feels awkward. His throat is dry.

“Okay, let’s just—” Jihoon starts, spreading Soonyoung’s legs a bit further and stroking him in earnest, “You’re really hot and I want to have sex with you, but also, like, let’s not talk about this. Let’s forget this ever happened. I don’t know you after tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung’s heart (and dick) is much more affected by Jihoon calling him hot than it should be, even after finding out that they’ve spoken under entirely different circumstances. It’s strange, discomforting, but doesn’t phase Soonyoung as much as it should.

He regrets the agreement later that night when he sees Jihoon tense up and whimper above him, grinding harshly into his lap, and regrets it further when Jihoon curls up on one side of his bed and sleeps soundly, light snores keeping Soonyoung awake.

* * *

All trivial feelings aside, whether they cause a stir in his chest or in his jeans (which Soonyoung apparently put back on and slept in, in his own bed), Soonyoung has to be to class at 9:00. It’s 8:48 and Soonyoung isn’t sure if Jihoon was even awake before he left. He didn’t want to try to talk to him while he was half asleep, anyway—maybe he didn’t want to talk to him period. That’s what he agreed to, after all.

It’s not even that Jihoon is good looking and really good at sex, which are definitely reasons for wanting to talk to him again, it’s that Soonyoung is intrigued by him, which is strange—usually Soonyoung is the one people pursue out of curiosity. He’s sort of an oddball—Jihoon probably is too, but he’s a lot more charming and a lot less of an enigma. He’s the quiet kid in his Literature class who has an iced Americano no matter how cold it is outside. His hair is soft despite how much he must have bleached it. He evidently has a habit of sitting alone in the kitchen at parties, defeating the purpose of going to a party at all. He’s sort of baby-faced and pretty small but still somehow pretty chiseled and angular. He has a self-proclaimed thing for dancers. He’s completely clueless that the guy he slept with last night is more into him than he should be.

Jihoon is in front of Soonyoung as he walks to their shared class. It’s some distance but close enough for Soonyoung to see that he’s wearing last night’s clothes, all wrinkled and hastily put on. Soonyoung’s throat is tight and he knows he shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t catch up with him, but he really wants to.

His want turns into frantic ambition and he rips a folded piece of paper that was probably important from the side pocket of his backpack, a dying pen along with it. He scribbles his phone number onto it while gnawing his lip—he swears he can still taste the pad thai off Jihoon’s lips.

Then, he’s bolting towards Jihoon, pulse heightening with each stride he takes, with every inch he gets closer to him—he shoves the paper unceremoniously into his hand in passing and keeps going, only looking back to make sure he didn’t drop it.

He catches a glimpse of Jihoon’s bewildered face, flushed pink atop a neck full of hickeys, and he laughs loudly to himself—the wind flurries around him harshly but not offensively. He feels like he’s flying.

* * *

Soonyoung’s apartment is on the 3rd floor and the balcony overlooks an edge of his campus, a small courtyard with lots of benches, and he has a habit of falling asleep while watching how the trees move and how the people crowd there. It happened after literature class that day, the blissful stress of being near Jihoon exhausting him, and he wakes up with a jolt—his phone is ringing, loud and persistent.

“Hello?”

“Soonyoung.” The voice is firm and familiar, unique to one person. Soonyoung wants to scream. “You’re ridiculous.” Now it’s weaker, breaks into a laugh, so Soonyoung laughs too.

“You called me, oh my god—you called me…” He muses, sitting upright in his chair, “Hey—about last night—”

“Jesus, don’t tell me you’re going to…” Jihoon doesn’t finish his sentence, just huffs. “How drunk were you last night?”

Soonyoung’s honest: “Only a little.”

“Oh.” Jihoon doesn’t sound taken aback, but a part of Soonyoung knows he is. “I didn’t drink all night, actually.”

“Yeah?” He’s taken aback. A low, dumb giggle escapes his throat.

“I told you, I have a thing for dancers.” Jihoon admits, sheepishly, flustered—Soonyoung supposes he has a thing for people who have a thing for dancers, and he would say that, but he’s not trying to be witty. He’s trying to get Jihoon to come around.

“I can’t act like I don’t want to see you, because I totally do. Like, not even naked—fully clothed. Or naked if you want! I’m not opposed, just…” Soonyoung takes a deep breath, trying not to ramble. God, Jihoon actually called him. “I want to see you again. You’re… I like you.”

“Let me run this by you.” Jihoon says flatly, amusement evident in the way he paces his words. “You got a little drunk and talked to me for a few hours, probably didn’t even know my name—then we had sex, and _now_ you want to go on a date with me?”

“Yeah, I, uh—it’s kinda backwards, sorry, but… like you said, we can pretend last night never happened. I want to get to know you. Please?”

Soonyoung’s eyes scan the courtyard while he waits for Jihoon to respond, and in doing so, he sees a familiar mop of platinum blond hair with his knees to his chest on the grass around a tree, phone to his ear and head tilted up towards the clouds—they’re full and soft looking and it seems like Jihoon has been looking at them for a while. Soonyoung is somehow more comforted than surprised by Jihoon’s presence below him.

“Yeah.” He says quietly, and there’s a delay between what he can make out of his lips moving and what he hears on the phone, but Jihoon is definitely smiling. “That sounds good.”

After a short goodbye, Soonyoung leans back and closes his eyes to sleep again—it’s an abnormally warm and breezy fall day that feels a lot more like spring, feels a lot more beautiful than the half-dead trees. Maybe it’s more like the crabapple blossoms that will bloom on the tree Jihoon sits under.

He doesn’t sleep—he can’t, not when the afternoon is so fresh and Jihoon is so justly peaceful in the courtyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the first chapter! this one turned out a lot longer than i expected. i'll probably add onto this fic a lot, i'm not sure how many chapters it'll have before i stop, so look out for more! tags will be added as i go on.
> 
> this one is for tong!!!!!! soonhoon god and my hero!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	2. gyuhao/au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minghao makes himself at home.

His scarf looks stupid on him. It draws attention to his weird stick neck and it doesn’t go with his stupid white crew neck and his stupid letterman jacket. Mingyu hates it and wishes he would take it off so he can suck hickeys onto his neck, or maybe kiss it, or maybe just rest a hand on it, warm flesh under his fingertips.

Mingyu can see his breath even from out the window, how he shuffles with his hands shoved into his pockets, how he walks up the driveway with no hesitation. Oh, god damn it—he’s walking up the driveway, isn’t he?

Mingyu catches him at the door before he walks in without knocking. He looks even more ridiculous up close, his eyes catching the light of the setting sun that makes the layer of snow on the ground shimmer. It’s stupid. He’s stupid.

“What are you doing here, Minghao?” He asks helplessly, and Minghao’s stupid fucking giggle ends in him sniffling from the cold and dabbing at his nose with his sleeve.

“My mom isn’t home and I’m hungry. Was hoping you’d have food.”

Ah, how burdensome it is to be best friends with your next-door neighbor.

Mingyu crosses his arms and pops his hips with a moody sigh. “What if I wasn’t home, huh? You’d be breaking and entering.”

“You seem to forget that your dad gave me a key.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why.” Mingyu challenges. Minghao narrows his eyes and scowls in return.

“I don’t either—you never lock your doors.”

The second Mingyu rolls his eyes, Minghao pushes past him with ease and shrugs his coat and shoes off before trudging up the stairs, flopping onto Mingyu’s bed and immediately plugging in his phone. It’s not like it fucks Mingyu up how normalized Minghao being in his bed is or anything. It’s not like that at all.

“You’re in luck about the food thing. I ordered pizza.” Mingyu comments, closing the door behind him. Minghao cocks an eyebrow in his direction but still puts his phone down in anticipation, letting Mingyu straddle him and hastily catch his lips in an incidentally teethy kiss.

It doesn’t take long for it to be less teethy and more… gratifying. It’s cathartic, almost, the way Minghao’s nails drag across Mingyu’s scalp, sending a shiver down his spine and making him sigh deeply into his mouth. Mingyu’s brain screams that it’s not normal to make out with your best friend, let alone your neighbor, but it’s drowned out by another scream about how soft and warm Minghao’s lips are against his. It’s strange that this is familiar to them. The drag of Mingyu’s tongue against Minghao’s lower lip is comforting like a hug.

It feels like ages before Mingyu finally pulls away and Minghao laughs at him softly, hands still firmly planted on his shoulders. Mingyu’s arms are strong and don’t falter with the effort of holding his body over Minghao’s, looking into his eyes with a pout.

“You’re always mean to me when you want to kiss me.” Minghao complains quietly, shoving at Mingyus chest. He sits up, fully expecting the boy under him to turn over and distract himself from what just happened, but instead feels him scoot out from beneath him and climb into his lap, burying his face into the nape of his neck. Mingyu notes that his stupid scarf is still on—he didn’t take it off with his shoes and jacket. It’s unwrapped from his neck now, though, mussed up and crooked like his hair and his smile between his shiny lips.

“Because you drive me crazy.” He murmurs. It’s true—Minghao is annoying and unfortunately attractive.

Minghao isn’t often affectionate but Mingyu holds him anyway, resisting all urges to insult him or bicker with him in fear of him leaving his grasp. Minghao’s hands curl into Mingyu’s shirt while he breathes deeply and slowly, probably smelling that nice body wash Mingyu used in the shower earlier—Minghao himself doesn’t necessarily smell fresh and doesn’t necessarily smell bad, but rather overwhelmingly like himself. Mingyu hates that he knows what that smell is, something like laundry softener and old wood.

Minghao turns his head so his lips rest against Mingyu’s neck, not kissing it, just stilling and inhaling before speaking. “Mingyu, I have a question for you.” He says slowly, and it’s so out of character—it’s serious and gentle and not teasing.

“Shoot.” Mingyu suggests, and as much as he hates Minghao, he really hopes he’s going to ask him out, ask to kiss him again, something—

He feels Minghao's smug grin against his neck. “When is the pizza getting here?”

He’s stupid. Minghao is so, so stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gyuhao might be the only ship i've written (and posted) twice, and i think that says a lot... i luv them
> 
> hi malorie!!!!! this one's for You!


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